


Nobility

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: Prince Jazz of Polyhex has been promised to Prince Prowl of Praxus in order to secure an alliance in the shadow of a looming war. But, there is more to Praxus than meets the eye...Tags updated as story progresses!
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could have sworn I had uploaded Nobility to AO3, however it’s not here… which is amazing, considering I was planning on revamping it from the bottom up (I have a feeling this is the third time now. God, I need help.). An issue I have with Nobility is that I keep writing it backwards (as in, I know exactly how it ends, and I did actually have the last 2 or 3 chapters of it written out, but the bits in the middle? Oof. Fuck knows.) and another issue I’ve run into it is that my ex still has my old phone, which had ALL of my nobility writing on. Silly me didn’t back it up, and ex is not giving me back my phone. So, that’s gone! I think I had about 10 chapters worth of material on that thing.  
> So, ground up it is! Time to get re-writing!   
> I've also completely forgotten what the original summary for Nobility was, oops. At this point I fear this may well be an entirely different fic, but screw it. I make the rules here! >:3c

From the moment he was born, his purpose in this world had already been determined.

Polyhex was a particularly vulnerable city state. Whilst it was surrounded by natural barriers, such as the rust sea and the tagan heights, they were also horribly exposed on the sides that required the most protection; the sides that bordered with city states sympathetic to the Decepticons. The additional carrot dangled before the Decepticon forces: Polyhex controlled all of Cybertrons satellites, and was home to the network command hub A very big, interesting carrot indeed. Being a neutral territory, there was always the worry that come an invasion, they would have no allies willing to step up to their aid. Iacon was one of their biggest, and strongest, but most of their energy was spent in the territories of their fellow Autobot allies.

And so, that left only one option, really: alliances with other fellow neutral states.

Praxus was in excellent position for such an alliance. Both shared borders with Iacon, so there were common friendships between them. And, even better, Praxus formed a triad with the city states of Uraya and Protihex: a very strong, and very powerful allegiance indeed.

It was just their luck that the King of Praxus had just recently had a child, a few groons before they had. Two children similar in age were perfect for forming bonding agreements.

And so, as soon as Jazz knew up from down and had begun to click and chirp away, the King and Queen of Polyhex presented him to the King and Queen of Praxus, as they presented their own, and an agreement was made.

* * *

“ _Jazz! Get down here right now!_ ”

Jazz lazily lay on the branches of a huge tree, front down like a snoozing leopard. He lazily onlined his visor, the extremely cross and very aggravated face of his valet glaring straight up at him. “How did you even get up there?”

“I’m just that good.” Jazz sleepily replied, sitting up and rubbing at his optics underneath his visor. “How long have I been gone for?”

“Far too long. The Queen is looking for you.”

That made Jazz sit up straighter. When mother is on the hunt, you know it’s only a matter of time until you are found. “Personal or professional?”

“Personal, I’d imagine. Would you like some help getting down?”

Jazz simply swung himself down from the branch, landing neatly on his feet. “Well, then, if you’d please follow me. We must get you cleaned up first.”

Jazz followed the other mech, at least a head and shoulder taller and a mix of deep blues and soft greys, back into his home.

Home wasn’t really the right word for it, to be entirely honest. Fortress probably suited it better. Armed to the teeth, Jazz was still yet to find all of the secret nooks and crannies that held weaponry, ready to face any threat that may oppose them. And they needed it. He had barely even scratched the surface of Polyhexian history, being as young as he was, but every century of their existence had been stained bright pink with their lifeblood. Darkmount was a fitting name for his home.

His valet, a mech called Vi, was a strict mech, and did not allow Jazz much wriggle room. This in turn, however, had turned Jazz into an extremely sneaky child who loved to bend the rules to the absolute limit. He knew when it was better to just do as he was told – such as now, especially when his carrier was concerned – but he also knew when he could toe the line between disobedience and being a cheeky little bugger.

Vi prepared his wax and adornments whilst he scrubbed off the dirt from his day in class and then frolicking around outside. Once dry, Vi assisted him in his wax job (“When you’re older, I shan’t be helping you with this, so watch me carefully!”) and appropriately dressed him before accompanying him to the day room, where his carrier was lain across the loveseat, absently plucking at the strings on an instrument as she stared off into space intently.

Vi gently rapped his knuckles twice against the door. “My Queen?” He gently prompted.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Vi, I lost myself there. Thank you so much for finding Jazz for me. Please, do go enjoy yourself. I’ll handle him for today.” He replied.

“Oh, no, my Queen! Should you need me, I am a mere bell away.” He bowed. “Please make use of me.”

“I do believe there is some energon waiting for you downstairs. Go enjoy it with a good book now, you hear?”

“Of course.” He quietly closed the door behind him as he left.

“Now, then.” He turned his attention towards Jazz. “What is this I hear about you mucking about in trees again?”

“It was just one tree this time!” Jazz insisted.

“Just the one.” Melody teased. “I know what your maths is like. They show me your exam transcripts.”

Jazz burned red, spluttering in embarrassment. “They promised they wouldn’t!” He whined.

“You need to do better in maths!”

“I’m trying!” Jazz whined.

“Oh, Jazz, I’m playing.” Melody gathered him into his arms and placed him upon his lap. “Now. I have something I must tell you.”

Jazz sat up straight to attention, looking at his carrier intently. This seemed serious!

“We’re going to be going on a trip very soon, to Praxus.”

“Praxus? Why?”

“To go and pay the House of Praxus a visit.” Melodys fingers danced on Jazz’s arm. “Do you remember what I told you about them?”

“That they don’t do the kissy thing that we do.” Jazz made a face. “That they communicate with their wings instead.”

Melody storted in laughter. “Yes, yes, that is correct, but what else?”

“Hum...” Jazz tapped on his bottom lip. “Oh! That they are our friends, and that I must be on my best behaviour around them.”

“Yes! That’s perfect, little Jazz. You must be well behaved, you hear me, you little monster?”

“I promise I will be on my best behaviour!”

“That’s good. Thank you, little Jazz. I wanted to tell you first, otherwise Vi would get himself all in a fuss. You know what he’s like.” Melody smirked and pecked his creation on the forehead. “Like a mother hen, that one. He’d get all worked up even though he’d not coming with us!”

“What?” Jazz was shocked, leaning away from his carrier. “He’s not coming with us?”

“No.” Melody looked crestfallen. “I need him to stay behind and keep things running whilst we are away. I trust no one else to keep this place running like a well oiled machine.”

“How long will we be gone? I’ve never been away from him.”

“Not very long.” Melody assured him. “Five cycles at the very most.”

“Five whole cycles...” Jazz sighed, sinking down into the plush cushions below him. “When do we go?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Melody replied. “I know it is short notice, little dear, but we know what you’re like. You’d spill the beans within seconds.”

“Isn’t it a bit mean, springing this on him?”

“Yes. It is incredibly mean.” Melody smoothed his hands over his creations helm. “But it is more cruel to have told him a groon ago, and given him a groons worth of suffering.”

“The lesser evil.”

“Yes!” Melody looked delighted. “I’m proud of you for understanding, Jazz.”

Jazz couldn’t help but beam up at him.

* * *

Two days later, they left Darkmount in the capable hands of Vi. He waved them off at the gate after assuring them that not a single stone would be out of place upon their return. And with that, they were off.

The journey, in Jazz’s honest opinion, sucked.

The terrain was simply tunnel, tunnel, and oh, _surprise_! More tunnel!

His sire said that it was to be expected; after all, they were travelling through the mountains. But all there was to look at was bleak darkness punctuated every so often with artificial lights.

When he went to sleep, they were still inside the darkness of the tunnels. When he woke up, they were approaching Praxus.

Excitement shot through him. From what he could see, the landscape was dominated by large pools of fluid, some bright and vivid colours, and crystals. So many crystals! He’d never seen so many before, or many as big as they were here! It was incredible!

They arrived at the castle of the House of Praxus in the late afternoon. They were greeted at the castle entrance by a tall mech and a just as tall femme, although she were leaning slightly upon the mech.

“Now, Jazz, these two are King Smokescreen and Queen Silverstreak. You must be on your best behaviour, now.” his sire Blues warned him. “Be polite. Do not speak unless specifically spoken to. And do not, and I mean it, Jazz! Do not run off anywhere.”

“Yes, sire.” Jazz replied.

“Good.” Blues seemed satisfied. “Now, big smiles everyone!”

They greeted the King and Queen of Praxus in traditional Polyhexian style – two kisses, one on each cheek. Silverstreak took it in stride, returning it straight back to them with a big, dazzling smile. Smokescreen did not seem to be as enthusiastic as his partner, opting instead for the traditional Praxian way of taking their hand, holding it to his chest, and dipping his doorwings.

“And you must be young Jazz.” Silverstreak said, kneeling down before him. “It is a delight to see you again.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Jazz replied, standing on his tip-toes in order to greet her properly.

“Prowl and Smokescreen are awaiting us upstairs.” Smokescreen informed them. “I hope that it is not too much trouble that they were not present to greet you.”

“None at all, Sir.” Blues replied. “We are truly honoured that you came to greet us personally.”

“Anything for our good friends.” Silverstreak replied. “Come, now, you must tell us all about Jazz.”

“Perhaps inside, dear.” Smokescreen interjected before Melody could get started. “When we are all comfortable.”

“Of course.”

They sat inside of a comfortable drawing room, plush sofas laden with plump cushions. It was obvious that the room had been designed with those with doorwings in mind. The three younglings shyly waved at each other, Prowl and Jazz excitedly eyeing each other. Would they be allowed to play together? It was so rare that their creators allowed a playdate within the royal families.

The adults all sat down, Silverstreak laying on a lounger. “You must forgive me,” she began, but Melody was swift to wave her off.

“We understand, dear. Please be at ease and rest.”

Silverstreak sighed and sunk down into the cushions. “You are so kind to us. Now. Please do tell us all about him.”

The four of them began their discussion, Smokescreen Junior sitting by his sire and watching the adults talk.

Prowl and Jazz, despite being the topic of conversation, remained very much forgotten. The two shared a look.

“It’s so uncomfortable being spoken about as if I’m not here.” Prowl whispered to him.

“Then why don’t we leave?” Jazz suggested. His parents wouldn’t be cross if Prowl was with him, right? I mean, the whole reason they were here was so he could meet Prowl, right?

Prowl looked stricken. “We can’t just leave!” He protested. “We’d get into so much trouble!”

“Only if we’re caught. Besides, the whole reason I’m here is to meet you. Come on, let’s play.”

Prowl looked incredibly uncertain, glancing over at their creators. They still hadn’t noticed their little conversation.

“Fine, I’ll just go without you then.” Jazz said, hopping down. He was tired hearing his creators talk about him anyway – it was just downright embarrassing hearing them gush about how amazing he was.

“No, don’t leave me!” Prowl hopped down after him, and the two quietly sneaked away.

* * *

They’d noticed their creations were missing too late. The pair of them were well and truly gone.

Smokescreens face was the definition of a storm. He held it in well, his face schooled carefully to appear as calm as possible, however it was all in his optics. He looked furious.

Blues and Melody, however, were not so cross at the pair having gone missing. Chances were, it was Jazz’s fault, and poor poor Prowl had been dragged into it. Wherever they’d gone, they were together, and that was an excellent sign at least.

Smokescreen Junior, King Smokescreens first son, went out ahead. He was armed with his sibling bond with Prowl, far more sensitive than a creator-creation bond. He pointed towards the castle gardens, the tall crystals towering above them.

“He’s in there.” He said. “It’s a vague feeling though, so I can’t tell you exactly.”

King Smokescreen patted his creation on the head. “Well done. May you inform the kitchen staff to bring us energon? I feel our discussion today may take longer than expected.”

“Of course.” Smokescreen bowed, quickly bowing and tilting his doorwings down in a show of respect towards the Polyhexian monarchs, and swiftly darting away.

“I do hope nothing’s happened.” Melody said. “I’m so sorry for this.”

“No, I am sorry.” Smokescreen replied. “Prowl knows better.”

Silverstreak squeezed her bondeds hand in warning. _Be nice in front of them_.

Blues was the first to spot their creations. He held up his finger to his lips in the universal sign for quiet. The four of them crept forwards, peering around the corner. Silverstreak had to duck away and hide her face, clutching her chest. Melody ducked after her, the two in quiet awe.

Prowl was dancing to Jazz’s singing.

Well, as much as it could be called dancing. More swaying on the spot, his face a picture of quiet bliss.

The two were sat on the floor in a nook by a huge crystal tree, Jazz singing a song that made the crystals resonate with his voice and change colour. They were both blissfully unaware of the adults, Prowl with his back to the tree, his optics shut and a small smile playing on his face, and Jazz focused only on Prowl.

“I think it’s best that we leave them.” Blues quietly said to Smokescreen. “We can have another quiet chat with them later, it appears them being friendly with each other is no issue.”

“Very well.” Smokescreen tightly replied. “Come, let us eat and talk inside.”

* * *

Smokescreen Junior joined the two later, carrying three cubes of energon, plus a small selection of goodies.

“The maids let you carry that?” Prowl asked, optics wide in amazement. “They never let me help!”

“No, they don’t know I took it.” Smokescreen replied. “Don’t worry, it is for us!” He quickly assured them both, “They just stopped looking at it for a moment.”

He handed Jazz a cube first before helping himself. Prowl took the final cube. Jazz raised an eyebrow. In Polyhex, you served everyone else before yourself, regardless to status. You could have been a god, but served the lowest of the low before serving yourself. Apparently, in Praxus, it wasn’t like that.

“So, how are you finding Praxus so far?” Smokescreen asked, sipping at his cube.

“I haven’t seen much of it,” Jazz admitted, “but I really like all the crystals. It’s so beautiful, there’s nothing like this back home.”

“What’s Polyhex like?” Prowl asked, taking the small box of additives from the basket and sprinkling some on his energon before offering it to Jazz. Jazz accepted, and sprinkled some on his own as he answered.

“Well, there’s the tagan heights to one side – you know, the mountain range? And then to another there’s the rust sea. Polyhex is just sand and rocks, but the music is great.”

“I heard that you guys have a strong musical culture.” Smokescreen prompted.

“Yeah!” Jazz looked very excited to share this information with him. “Everything we do is for music. I can already play three instruments. Even our naming system is musical.”

“And you can sing extremely well.” Prowl continued.

Jazz beamed at him.

“Praxus is usually very rainy.” Smokescreen said. “Like, all the time. I think this is the best weather we’ve had in a while, we must have been waiting for you to come.”

“Like a good weather charm.” Prowl continued.

As if tempted by fate, a big, fat raindrop landed right on Jazz’s face.

“Agh!”

“Ah. Jinxed it.” Smokescreen sighed.

“Come on!” Prowl grabbed Jazz’s hand, pulling him to his feet and rushing off deeper into the gardens.

Smokescreen didn’t stand a chance of catching up with them, too busy scrambling to put their empty cubes back into the basket.

“Here,” Prowl panted. “This is where I come to hide.”

“What from?” Jazz asked, peering in. Prowl seemed to falter slightly, doorwings twitching. It frustrated Jazz to no end that he couldn’t read them. “The rain.” Prowl eventually replied. If anything was off about the answer, Jazz most certainly did not notice, and he clambered on in.

It was a small den of sorts, hidden well by the surrounding crystal. It could probably fit an adult mech, but it’d be a tight squeeze. It was perfect, however, for two younglings who had barely begun their growth spurts. Prowls doorwings were still tiny, too – there’d be no issue trying to squeeze them in.

The rain came down hard, thundering on the ground in front of them. Jazz was glad they were slightly up off the ground, sitting on a flat plane of crystal. It looked like the water would easily come in and soak them given half the chance.

“How did you find this place?” Jazz asked, tucking his knees in underneath his chest as he watched the rain. The crystals looked amazing wet, their colour much more vibrant.

“By accident. I dropped something and it rolled away, and when I looked up I was staring into this place.”

“Wow.” Jazz mused. “I’m jealous. There’s nothing like this back in Polyhex.”

“I didn’t think it rained much there.”

“No.” Jazz admitted. “The mountains protect us from most of it.”

“I hope it’s okay that it’s so wet here.” Prowls doorwings twitched downwards.

“Are you kidding? It’s great! I love the rain! I’ve never experienced something so amazing!” Jazz was leaning forwards towards Prowl, their faces inches apart. If they were older and had the inclinations of adults, they’d find it embarrassing, or even awkwardly close, but as younglings, it was barely an issue. “I love the crystals, they’re so beautiful when they’re wet.” Jazz fell back with a sigh. “I hate that I’m only staying for one night.”

“Me too.” Prowl grumbled. “I never get to talk to anyone my own age.” He huffed.

“Don’t you have any cousins?”

“I do, but I barely ever see them.”

“Oh. That’s sad.”

Prowl just shrugged. “I don’t really know them, so I don’t miss them. I just miss socialising.”

“Hey, how about I teach you how we say hello in Polyhex.” Jazz suggested. Prowl looked at him in curiosity.

“Is that what our creators were doing earlier? That weird face thing?”

“Yeah!” Jazz excitedly replied. “It’s not that bad, I promise.”

Prowl still looked uncertain. “I don’t know how I feel having someone’s face so close to mine.”

“It’s over quickly.” Jazz said. Here, you just do this-” He leaned forwards, pressing their cheeks together once, and then twice, each time making a noise with his mouth. Prowl couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“That’s so silly!”

“It’s a greeting!” Jazz insisted. “Here, you try it on me. I wont laugh at you, I promise.”

Prowl looked a little nervous, but at Jazz’s little nod of encouragement, he leaned in and pressed their cheeks together, a small giggle slipping out.

“Almost, you gotta do this kissy-thing too.” Jazz made the noise with his mouth, a ‘mwah’ sound.

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“It beats actually kissing them.” Jazz replied.

“You know what, I agree.”

“Come on, again.” Jazz encouraged. Prowl tried a second time, this time punctuating his cheek touches with the sound.

“Perfect!” Jazz excitedly replied. Prowl smiled back at him.

The rain thundered down around them.

Jazz didn’t want to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I checked and I apparently never rebooted it so this is actually the second write, that’s not so bad.  
> I also read back over the nobility I had uploaded to ff.net and I had to hold in my tears of laughter, for it was 3am and I would wake my entire neighbourhood. What the heck was that?! I’m so sorry! I say that as if this is going to be any better, but it’s already in third person so it’s certainly got that going for it.  
> I also have NO IDEA what some of the things were seeds for. See, I’m the type of writer who doesn’t tend to write things down or make a plan. When seven years pass without you really thinking about it much, you tend to forget things. I have NO IDEA what some of that stuff was. I’m so sorry for those who wanted to find out. The answer is lost to the sands of time. My notes document is thus far 1k long. I am not making that mistake again.  
> Thank you for the positive response to the first chapter! And Prowl’s sorrows are not quite over yet. Godspeed, Prowl. Godspeed.

It was a few more vorns until they saw each other again.

The nobles had gathered in the city of Iacon for a celebration. The creation of the current Prime and his consort had finally reached his final juvenile upgrade. His next would be his young adult upgrade. It was a momentous event, apparently. Jazz personally didn’t see what the big deal was, but his creators had really hammered it in this time that Jazz was not to speak up about anything, and was to keep his head down and out of trouble. He’d embarrassed them enough on his last visit to Praxus, and he was not to do it again in the presence of every noble family and the Prime himself!

Jazz and Prowl had gone through a frame upgrade themselves, and Jazz was now a good head taller than Prowl. He had strutted around proudly like a peacock when he’d realised, Prowl sighing in resignation and awkwardly trailing along after him. Smokescreen junior had disappeared off into the crowds at some point, and Jazz spotted him hanging around with other Praxians.

“Who’s Smokey with?” He asked, peering over at the group. Prowl followed his line of sight.

“They’re our cousins.” Prowl replied.

“Why don’t you go say hi?”

Prowl just shook his head. “They don’t like me very much. I don’t like to play their games.”

“What kind of games do they play?” Jazz asked, taking a few rust sticks from a table and handing some to Prowl.

“Ones that involve hurting other people.” Prowl grimaced, accepting the sweet treats and quietly nibbling on one.

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun game.”

Prowl shook his head in the negative. Very not fun.

Jazz had a moment of inspiration. “Here, come on!” He said, quickly making sure that they weren’t being watched before peeling up the table cloth and ducking underneath the table.

“Oh!” Prowl quickly ducked in after him. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“They’ll have to find out first.” Jazz replied. “Come on, let’s go exploring. There are a lot of tables, I wonder how far we can get?”

The two crawled around underneath the tables, eavesdropping on various conversations. Boring things, like energon prices, luxury foreign imports, and what new thing they’d bought that week. Lots of posturing and strutting around, butting heads over who was the richest, or the most important, or who had the best life. And some things they were certain they were not supposed to hear, such as rumours over who were discussing alliances and bonding agreements with who.

It wasn’t as if they particularly cared about it anyway, after all. They were but simple wayward children.

They’d work together on sneaking up and out to grab some of the goodies on display on the tables. Jazz seemed to favour the rust sticks, while Prowl favoured the gummies.

They were crawling through another section, when Prowl suddenly threw himself forwards, grabbing onto Jazz and pulling him back, clamping his hand down over his mouth. Jazz tried to squirm free, but froze when the table cloth lifted just ahead of them, and they saw someone peering in under the table.

“No, not here!” they called out, not bothering to even look to the side, where the pair of them were in plain view.

“Are they looking for us?” Prowl whispered.

“I hope not,” Jazz grimaced. “Should we get out?”

“Maybe crawl on a bit further, just to be safe.” Prowl replied. The two pressed onwards, hoping to whoever was listening that they didn’t get caught now.

But it soon became apparent that it was not they who were being hunted.

Jazz and the other mech bumped into each other head first. They fell back with a muffled ‘ouch!’, Jazz into Prowl and the other onto the floor. Rubbing their faces, they both looked up at each other.

“Oh! You’re the Prime’s kid!” Jazz exclaimed. Prowl looked mortified.

“Jazz, you can’t be so _familiar_ -!”

“No, no, please. It’s okay. I very much prefer it.” They replied, placing their hands up in front of them in an attempt to placate him. “You two look familiar, but I’m ashamed that I don’t know your names. I am Orion Pax.”

“Jazz. Of Polyhex.” Jazz quickly added.

“Prowl of Praxus.” Prowl held his hand to his chest and dipped his wings in what Jazz recognised as the traditional greeting. Jazz wasn’t entirely sure if he were even allowed to _touch_ Orion, giving him his own traditional greeting was out of the question, and he didn’t know if there was a version of it that did not involve touching anyone. He instead opted to mirror Prowl and place his hand to his chest too.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Can we keep this a secret, that I’m down here? Please?”

“Do you not like parties?” Jazz asked, sitting cross legged on the floor. Prowl remained in his knelt position.

“Quite the opposite, I enjoy them. I like socialising with others. It’s just suffocating having all the attention on you.”

Jazz hummed in understanding. “We’re not gonna tell anyone, don’t you worry. Say, do you want a rust stick?”

* * *

Once every four vorns, the nobles would gather for a huge ball, existing solely for them to meet, to build upon friendships, and to desperately attempt to keep war at bay.

Prowl _hated_ the damn things.

Jazz _loved_ the things.

He loved to sing, and he loved to dance. He was only too happy to be left to his own devices, losing himself to the music. Prowl, on the other hand, thought that they were noisy, pointless, and just an excuse to get horrifically drunk.

Jazz had done the math. There were only two of these events separating him from now, and his bonding ceremony to Prowl. He would meet Prowl only twice before spending the rest of his life with him.

The thought didn’t really sink in for Jazz – as young as he still was, the concept of forever hadn’t really sunk in. He knew forever was a long time, but to him it was a romantic concept. Only good things lasted forever. The romance of it was thick, heavy, and just the thing he loved. He knew he got on well enough with Prowl, and those who bonded were in love, and that was enough really.

On their first noble ball, Jazz had found Prowl lurking in a corner, nursing a cube of energon whilst watching everyone. He’d not been particularly enjoying himself, but he perked up significantly when he saw Jazz.

“Do you want to dance with me?” Jazz asked.

“I can’t dance.” Prowl had replied.

“Nonsense. Everyone can. I’ll keep it simple for you, how about that?”

And so, the two of them had danced together, Prowls smile illuminating Jazz’s world.

* * *

On their second, Prowl was almost unrecognisable.

His doorwings, for one, were now fully developed, and were constantly held in a rigid position. Jazz didn’t imagine that it could have been comfortable at all – Smokescreen Junior for example was only holding his wings like that when he was being spoken to! But Prowl, no matter where he was, what he was doing, who he was talking to – his doorwings did not shift an inch.

He was also much taller. The last they’d met, Jazz was the taller one, something he had taken much pride in at the time. But oh how the tables had turned – Jazz was at least a head shorter. Drat.

But even more surprising was how cold and distant Prowl now was. While before, he had always had his heart on his sleeve, emotions playing across his face and in his body language, he was now completely unreadable, expression almost never changing. If he found something funny, he didn’t show it.

Jazz felt an ice cold sense of trepidation fall over him. This was not the Prowl he had remembered. This was not the Prowl he’d wanted. What was he getting himself into?

But it melted away when Prowl spotted him. His doorwings finally – finally! - moved, fluttering slightly in what Jazz recognised as excitement. Prowl quickly excused himself from the conversation, ducking and weaving through the crowd towards him. Jazz followed in suit, doing his best to find the gaps in between the other guests. They finally met in the middle, the mecha around them shifting to accommodate the two and Prowl’s doorwings.

In a move that shocked everyone around them, Prowl took Jazz’s hand, raised it to chest height, and proceeded to greet Jazz in the traditional Polyhexian greeting. Properly.

He’d actually remembered that lesson in the gardens. And he’d used it. If Jazz had doorwings, they’d be flapping like a hummingbird.

“I’ve missed you.” Prowl quietly whispered into his audial.

“Me too.” Jazz whispered back, just as quietly.

Silverstreak watched the two with wide, bright optics. The room seemed almost frozen in time, until it all of a sudden wasn’t.

Prowl had been the one to initiate the dance that evening.

* * *

Prowl was to be bonded that summer.

His Sire had never been so easily angered.

Smokescreen Junior had already abandoned ship, leaving on what he called a peace trip, trotting around their allied states in the name of friendship and strengthening their alliances, but Prowl had seen straight through him. He’d ran to escape their Sire.

Prowl did not have that luxury. He had to remain there, in Praxus, and he hated every single second of it. He’d almost become nocturnal in his attempts to escape from his Sire, much to the chagrin of his valet. But it wasn’t as if he had much choice. His doorwings still ached from the last time they had crossed proverbial swords.

Jazz had been awfully sweet. They’d been allowed to exchange letters on the condition that they be read over by a guardian – Prowl had elected his valet to be his. There was no way he would allow his Sire to go near them – there was no telling what he’d do to them – and his Carrier was in no fit state to be doing any kind of vouching for the contents of the letters.

Her condition had steadily worsened over the years. His creators had been desperate for a third creation, and possibly more, but she was simply too sick, her body frail. Prowl remembered her needing to lean against his Sire for support when standing for long periods of time, and how she’d always need to be able to sit down. Now, she was frequently bedridden. She missed her freedom dearly.

On the days when Prowl renounced his recent nocturnal tendencies, he would take her outside in her chair and enjoy the gardens with her. On days when he did not, his Sire would take that mantle when he had the time.

There was a knock on the door. Prowl jerked to alertness, beginning to doze off on his window seat. He called for them to enter, pushing himself upright. Was it another letter from Jazz?

His valet stepped in, giving him a bow. “Mail has arrived for you, Sir.”

Prowl stood and walked towards him. “Any news?”

“Nothing you are not aware of already, Sir.”

Prowl took his mail, briefly flicking through it. One was embellished with the seal of Polyhex, and he felt his spark leap in his chest.

“How is the King feeling today? Please, do not hesitate to speak freely. We are friends.” Prowl asked, pushing the door to his chambers closed. His valet swallowed hard, optics flicking between Prowl and the door. He chose to step away, and stand by the window, staring out over the grounds below.

“He has been… temperamental, at best.” He began. “Bonding ceremonies are difficult things to plan.”

“I didn’t think it would be anything that elaborate. They rarely are.”

“For you, no, but the people demand a party, and a party they are getting.” He explained. “You are not expected to attend the celebrations,” he hastily assured him at the panicked flash on Prowl’s face, “after all, you are expected to be… _occupied_ , shall we say.”

Prowl pulled a face. _Eesh_.

“Do you not find Jazz suitable for you?”

“He is amazing and wonderful and more than I deserve.” Prowl promptly replied, placing his mail down on his desk and taking his seat back at the window, patting the spot next to him to invite his valet to sit. “I am extremely lucky to have him, artificial as it may be.”

“And yet, you are uncertain.”

“You know full well my current situation. Tell me, would you want to bring anyone into this?”

His valet sighed. “I suppose not. I’m sorry, I spoke too easily.”

“No. Besides, I...” Prowl grimaced again. “I am not entirely certain I wish people to think that of me. As for why I am not present at my own celebration.”

“Mecha will always come up with fanciful stories to sate their hunger. It is something I thought you would be used to by now.”

Prowl hummed in agreement. That was true. He had heard the rumours about himself, and the nicknames he’d earned. Part of him wondered just how far they’d spread – Jazz hadn’t mentioned it at all in his letters, and these kinds of things you’d think would get written about.

‘Ice Prince’ had a nice flair to it, though. Prowl had secretly rather enjoyed that one.

His valet made to stand. “For your own personal comfort, I will see to it that the property on the other side of the gardens is prepared for your own use, after Jazz arrives.” He paused by the door. “As I understand it, I am sure you will appreciate the privacy.”

“I will. Thank you.”

They closed the door behind them, and Prowl felt himself sag back down into the soft cushions on the window seat. Primus, keeping up appearances was so difficult.

He allowed himself a moment of quiet, basking in the sunshine, before turning his attention to his letters.

Jazz’s sat at the top of the pile, beckoning to him. Prowl so desperately wanted to open it, and to soak up its contents, but he couldn’t. His sire had requested a meeting, and he had a feeling that he’d need that letter to raise his spirits later. He couldn’t tarnish the gooey feeling it gave him whenever he read one of Jazz’s letters with one of his sires meetings, and so he stood and placed it under his pillow on his berth. He could read it in private later.

And with that, he turned to his other letters.

One from the council. Prowl sat at his desk to read it, knowing that it would require his full attention. He often sat in on their meetings, shadowing the diplomat from Praxus. If Prowl got his way, then the experiences he was gaining there would for sure be invaluable for when he eventually inherited the crown of Praxus. Smokescreen was yet to be bonded, and so with his imminent bonding to Jazz he would be bumped up to be next in succession.

He set the letter to the side, placing it into a slot in his desk labelled with ‘in progress’. He’d draft a reply later, after his meeting with his sire.

The next letter was from the enforcers. Prowl’s doorwings perked up at that. He would sometimes work with them, undercover of course. The general public would _faint_ if they spotted Prowl out on patrol, and it wasn’t as if he was totally inconspicuous, but it was a job he thoroughly enjoyed, and pushed his body to the absolute limit. The enforcers often made good use of his battle computer, a piece of hardware that not very many mechs were sparked with at all. Not having anything to entertain it lead to Prowl developing destructive habits, and so this was a nice job to keep it in check and burn up all of his excess energy, and it scratched his itch for needing to do something good in his community.

He glanced at his chronometer. His meeting with the King was soon. Sighing heavily, he placed the letter inside the appropriate slot, and began to mentally prepare himself.

* * *

“Have you considered my offer any further?” The King asked, back facing Prowl as he gazed out of the window, out over the crystal gardens of Praxus Castle.

“I have.” Prowl replied. The King’s doorwings perked up slightly. “My answer remains the same.”

“You are still refusing?” The King turned to face his creation.

“That is correct.”

“Your bonding day approaches, Prowl. I can change that.” The King looked down at Prowl.

“We both know that holds no threat.” Prowl replied, standing his ground.

The King’s doorwing twitched, but he gave no other sign of agitation, so Prowl continued. “I am well aware that you accepted Polyhex’s offer for a reason, given how my brother is yet to be bonded, and until you’ve gotten what you want from this arrangement, it is safe to assume that any threats of cancellation you may have are empty.”

“Clever, clever boy.” The King walked down the steps towards his creation, hands behind his back. “Is this a challenge? A promise that you will be testing my patience?”

“I am better than to purposely agitate you. Our ideals simply do not align.”

“Oh, Prowl.” The King tutted. “You know I had such high hopes for you. Such a waste you are. I pity Jazz, I really, really do. He’s going to be so much better off with someone else, but alas, you are correct. I need something from him.”

“And what would that be?”

“That, Prowl, is insider information.”

Prowl felt himself bristle. “I deserve to know what you plan for my bondmate-”

The King roughly grabbed him by the collar. “ _I_ decide when he is your bondmate. _I_ do. Not you, not Jazz. _Me_.” He leaned in close, pulling Prowl towards him and holding him tight. “And if you’re so _desperate_ to know what I think, it’s that I don’t think you deserve a single thing at all. You have earned _nothing_ in this life except your scars. I truly believe that if it weren’t for me, you would never bond, and you would have _nothing_ , and you would never achieve anything.”

Prowl’s optics brightened and his doorwings flared in anger, but he didn’t respond. He knew that he was already pushing his luck as it was – one wrong step, one flare in temper from his sire, and he was toast.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”

Prowl tersely shook his head in the negative.

“As I thought. Coward.” The King roughly shoved him away. “Get out of my sight, you are making me feel unwell.”

Prowl really, really wanted to read that letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I had some people comment in the first rendition that they'd be sad if it ended up that Prowls family were actually terrible to him - sorry, this isn't new, and it's always been in the story, I'm just putting my foot on the gas this time round. They're complete dickheads.


End file.
